"Very well, father." "Come, Grant, we shall have to ride hard to overtake our men." The captain started reluctantly, scowling at me as he passed. "I should enjoy having the privilege of being left in charge here," he said, for my benefit. "No doubt, sir," returned Mortimer coldly. "But I have already selected Mr. Seldon for that duty." They left the house together, and I watched them ride past the window, followed by a dozen soldiers. As they disappeared Seldon turned his eyes to my face. He was rather a pleasant looking young man, but possessed an aggressive chin. "While I have no orders to that effect, Major," he said quietly, "I would take the responsibility of accepting your parole." "Are you not rather reckless?" "Oh, I think not," smilingly. "I would have you give it to Mistress Mortimer--surely under those conditions you would never run away." She stole a swift glance at me, shaking her head. "That would be too strong an imprisonment," I responded instantly. "Under all conditions I prefer not to give my parole." "Very well, sir," more stiffly, his geniality vanishing with my rather curt refusal. "Then I shall take all necessary precautions to prevent escape." He stepped aside to the hall door. "You may send two men in here, Ferguson." They entered quietly, glancing about with some curiosity, but taking position on either side of me at Seldon's command. Claire stood beside the table in silence, her glance out the window. Only as we wheeled about to leave the room did her eyes meet mine. That swift glimpse beneath the dark lashes caused me to leave the room with swiftly beating heart. At the door I stole another glance backward but she had sunk into a chair, her face concealed in her hands. With Seldon ahead, and the two guards behind, I tramped down the stairs into the basement, and was again locked within the walls of the strong room.